


as good a place to fall as any

by orphan_account



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception, Box Tunnel 20, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loved and he lost; that's all there was to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as good a place to fall as any

Anders lazily watched the play of light over his curls, the curve of his shoulder and over the thin blanket draped over his body. The light made everything look soft and hazy, and Anders resisted the urge to check the wine cork hidden in his bag, to feel if it was reassuringly heavy or if he’d have to pull out his gun. Mitchell was sprawled out on his front next to him, snoring softly into his pillow and his knuckles brushing lightly against Anders’s stomach, the metal of his ring cold against his skin.

Anders never imagined he would be in this position. He had always imagined himself filthy rich with several women to pick and choose from, usually with an impressive set of breasts and a fantastic pair of legs, but for the most part single. He never thought he’d find himself secretly hitched to an—admittedly gorgeous—Irishman who, while he does have rather amazing legs, is most decidedly male and prone to brooding.

Then his lips started twitching in a grin, a sign he was waking up, and muttered, “Do your brothers know you’re such a sap?” Anders bopped him on the bed, but he was half convinced his curls cushioned the whole blow. Even though he was aware Mitchell knew about his habit of watching him sleep, he’d never admit it, and Mitchell just chuckled at his reaction and rolled onto his back.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so we can have morning sex.” When Mitchell only gave an amused hum in response, eyes still closed, Anders swung his leg over Mitchell’s hips so he was straddling him and ground down. “Get to it.” The other man laughed and pulled him down into a kiss.

~

Anders fiddled with the ring in his pocket, the inside completely smooth. The mark was moving somewhere behind him, but he knew Mike was keeping tabs on him and for him to join him in observing the mark would be both unnecessary and suspicious. He flipped his long black hair over his shoulder and tucked the annoying strand in his face behind his ear; these days he was more comfortable in the skin of his forges than his own.

He saw Olaf signal him and forced a smirk onto his face, turned and made eye contact with the mark. He saw the double take, knew he had forged his ex girlfriend perfectly, and gave a delicate, flirtatious wave. Out of the corner of eye, he saw Mike leave for the safe as the mark approached Anders.

“Hello,” he said, low and sweet in her melodic voice. The man leaned forward, completely caught and murmured a distracted hello, and Anders didn’t have to do much to keep him distracted afterwards.

~

Mitchell was brilliant. It wasn’t something Anders could deny, and it was too much of a fact for him to be upset about it. Mike was wary around him, like he was around all forgers, but he hid it reasonably well and Mitchell was likely ignoring it.

Anders saw the other forger approach out of the corner of his eye from where he was reading up on the mark’s brother and ignoring Mike, and he turned to look fully at him when he was leaning against his desk.

“Can I help you?” Dark, dark eyes bored into his, a smile curling his lips.

“Looks like we’ll be working together.” Anders smirked at the obvious interest on the other man’s face. While he didn’t usually go for guys, he could easily make an exception for this one. Still, even he knew better than to mix this business with pleasure, and no matter how gorgeous the man in front of him was or how sexy his accent, they needed him for this job.

“Technically you’ll be working with Mike.”

Mitchell gave a laugh. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Picked up on that, did you?” he said with amusement coloring his tone. “Mike doesn’t like forgers very much,” and if Mitchell picked up on any bitterness, he was tactful enough not to mention it.

“I’m pretty sure it’d be easier to just work directly with you.” Anders considered him for a minute before he gestured to the chair next to him with a smile. Mitchell’s smile widened and he eagerly sat next to him.

“So, who am I forging?”

~

Anders shook off the forge with a sigh. It was always exhausting to transition back into himself; although, that had only started happening recently. He looked around to make sure the coast was clear and darted into the elevator to get to the meeting place. He pushed the button for the third floor and gave a soft sigh of relief when the elevator gave a jerk and moved up.

“Hello, darlin’.”

Anders froze. Familiar arms wrapped around his waist from behind and pulled him back against a hard chest, the bite of a zipper digging into his back, and he saw curly hair out of the corner of his vision. His breath hitched, and a hand stroked soothingly up his front, gliding over the fabric of his shirt and warmth seeping through the material.

“You shouldn’t be here. 

Mitchell hummed and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Well when else am I supposed to see you? You never come visit anymore.” He trailed kisses down until he reached his cheek and just rested his lips there, small gusts of air tickling his skin. “I missed you.”

Anders made a wounded noise and closed his eyes hoping this would fade away like a bad dream, but he still felt the other man’s warmth through their shirts and his lips on his cheek. Anders leaned back into him, and Mitchell tightened his arms around the blond.

~

Anders ran faster than he had ever run before, and he would have been proud of himself if he wasn’t being shot at. Mitchell was just ahead of him, and he probably would have been further away if he didn’t keep looking back to check on Anders.

They ducked into an alley to regroup, diving behind a dumpster to check their guns.

“Any ammo left?” Mitchell asked, a roguish smile on his face.

“Not much,” Anders replied with a wry grin.

“We need to split up.” Mitchell looked up for confirmation and Anders nodded in agreement. He was getting ready to run, but Mitchell tugged on his sleeve. He turned, a questioning look on his face, and Mitchell smashed their lips together, his tongue pressing into Anders’s mouth and a hand on his jaw to keep him in place. He plundered his mouth, tasting every corner and stealing his air.

He pulled back and said with a wink, “For luck,” and took off at a sprint. There was a delay, as if their pursuers were surprised, before the shooting continued.

Anders waited until the shooting stopped again and made a break for it, ducking and trying to make himself a smaller target when it started again. His lips were still tingling.

~

“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeated. Mitchell’s hand remained in his and he hummed in agreement.

“You still haven’t tried to get rid of me.”

They were getting closer to the meeting place, and Anders knew he should send Mitchell away, take his gun and shoot him and get him away.

He didn’t.

Mike turned, likely to yell at him for being late, and Anders saw him freeze, his mouth clicking shut and his face losing all color. Dreamshare was the most dangerous business in the world and they all willingly immersed themselves in this. They dove into people’s twisted psyches and dodged hit men in reality. They saw colleagues die and killed people themselves, and he had never seen Mike look as terrified as he did in this moment.

“Hey, Mike,” Mitchell said cheerfully, and Anders didn’t have to look to know the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Anders couldn’t look at Mike. The older man’s eyes were taking everything about the scene in, and Anders barely resisted the urge to yank his hand away from Mitchell. He didn’t think Mitchell would have let him anyway. 

“Anders,” his brother gritted out, “a word?” Mitchell’s eyes narrowed at Mike, his face barely retaining any of its usual friendliness, and his grip tightened around Anders’s hand before he let go.

“See you soon,” he said with a vicious smirk directed at Mike.

~

“Bragi!” Mitchell exclaimed, snapping in his fingers at his own conclusion and looking obscenely pleased with himself.

“What?” The obvious indifference in Anders’s voice didn’t deter Mitchell at all since he moved closer to Anders.

“You’d totally be Bragi!" 

He knew he’d regret asking this, but he still turned from his research, gave a resigned sigh, and asked, “Why?” 

“He’s the god of poetry,” he replied, matter-of-fact.

“You’re always complaining that I’m a crude prick,” he replied, understandably confused. Mitchell pressed kisses to the side of his face and the hinge of his jaw with a chuckle.

“You’re smooth when you want to be.”

“Can I get that in writing?” he asked amusedly. Mitchell laughed and wrapped his arms around Anders’s shoulders.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured. Anders turned away to hide the unbearably fond smile on his face, and if Mitchell saw he didn’t mention it.

“Okay.”

~

“How long has this been happening?” Mike hissed the minute they were far enough away from Mitchell.

“Not long,” Anders replied, tone making it clear he thought it was none of Mike’s business.

“So it’s happened before?” he asked angrily.

“No!” he responded defensively. “I was just coming to meet you and he showed up out of nowhere!” Mike gave him one of his looks, searching and trying to gauge if the other person was lying or not. Anders had been on the receiving end of that look a lot. Mike kept staring at him, searching for something he apparently didn’t find since he gave an annoyed sigh.

“I never understood the power he seems to have over you.”

“You were too busy glaring at him and being suspicious.”

Mike looked at him sharply at the barely concealed anger.

“You need to let him go.”

“I don’t need to do shit, Mike,” he said, spitting out his name like it was something disgusting. He walked away, back to Mitchell and Mike knew he should stop him, but he also knew there was nothing he could do that would help.

~

“You know I didn’t get a ring.”

“I know.” Mitchell kept smiling, even at Anders’s more contemplative look.

Anders grabbed Mitchell’s hand and held it so he could look up at it, eyes focused on the plain metal ring not much different from the other rings Mitchell wears. Anders could see the minute differences, though, how it fit his finger perfectly—Mitchell probably had it fitted—how it was obviously more expensive.

“I thought we agreed it’d be safer not to get wedding rings.”

“You’re the only one who knows it’s a wedding ring,” he said with a grin, rolling over on top of him and planting a light kiss on his lips. “Does it bother you that much?” Now his brows furrowed, concerned since Anders usually doesn’t care what he does. Anders’s face smoothed, and he ran a hand through his curly hair, watching as he leaned into the touch.

“No,” he finally replied. He gave a soft smile, so incredibly rare that Mitchell was almost afraid to breathe in case it would scare it away. “No it doesn’t.”

~

Mitchell’s expression was thunderous, so different from his normally cheery demeanor, although it brightened immediately when Anders came into view. He swooped in for a kiss the minute he was close enough, hands cradling his face and smiling into it, and Anders’s knuckles were white from his grip on Mitchell’s coat.

Mitchell laughed into the kiss and laid his hands over the blond’s, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over his knuckles. He startled when it hit Anders’s ring, and he pulled back in shock.

“You’re wearing my ring.” His eyes darted to look at Anders’s, but he averted his eyes and stayed quiet. “You’re not supposed to use someone else’s totem, darling,” he said as he continued to stroke Anders’s knuckles. “It could be used against you.”

“You’re the only one who knows what it does.”

Mitchell didn’t reply in favor of pressing a kiss to his hand, his lips brushing against the ring. His lack of answer was enough, and Anders looked down.

“You’re not that cruel.”

“Are you sure?” He pressed a lazy, fluttering kiss to the inside of his wrist, the teeth grazing against the delicate skin looking sharp from this angle, like a predator about to rip skin from bone. In a flash the image was gone as Mitchell pressed a kiss to his palm. “I did kill all those people after all.”

~

“He might not be the same.”

“Shut up, Mike.”

He got a firmer grip on the arm around his shoulders to keep Mitchell steady. He was still disoriented from the somacin and--

“He was trapped in limbo with _Herrick_ , Anders.”

And that.

“I said shut _up_ , Mike.”

Mitchell was shaking at the mention of Herrick, eyes wild and so terrified, and Anders needed to get him out of there and somewhere safe, somewhere he could draw him away from wherever in his mind he was running. For now, he ran a hand up and down his back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture, and he felt some relief when Mitchell leaned further into him. Olaf reached out a hand to help him along, but Mitchell flinched away, and Olaf immediately backed off.

“Hey,” Anders said, pitching his voice low and hopefully comforting, “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” Mitchell’s eyes squeezed shut and he nodded, looking like he was barely holding back tears.

“Please.”

~

Anders rolled over and was unsurprised to see Mitchell gone. He took a minute to prepare himself, knowing what he’d find and yet hoping today was different, and kicked the covers off. Sure enough, he found Mitchell on the balcony, arms wrapped around himself and hunched over as if he hoped to make himself smaller. He looked over his shoulder quickly when he heard Anders approach before turning back.

“Hey.”

Mitchell didn’t respond; Anders hadn’t expected him to. He stood next to him, arms crossed against the slightly chilly air.

“Do you want to come back inside?”

No response. It had been like this for a while. During the day would be normal, or as close to it as possible, but at night he would avoid sleep until he eventually collapsed from exhaustion.

“Do you--”

“Stop it,” he replied hoarsely, which was a new development. Anders waited for him to continue. “Stop acting like you care.”

“Wha--?”

“We both know you’re just pretending because I’m a good shag, so do us both a favor and stop acting like you actually give a shit about me.” Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes widened and his head whipped around to stare at Anders. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, seemingly too shocked at himself to speak properly. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry,” he said, chest heaving as he watched Anders’s face shut down.

“I think I’ll go back to bed,” he finally said, voice hollow but Mitchell grabbed his hand, and Anders noted distantly he could feel Mitchell’s wedding ring against his fingers. His look was contemplative, but other than that unreadable, and Mitchell took it as a good sign he hadn’t yanked his hand away.

“You didn’t deserve that and I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry,” he started, looking at the hand held in his since he couldn’t bear to look Anders in the eye at that moment. “I’m defensive and on edge and I haven’t slept properly in weeks and I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry.”

At Anders’s continued silence, he looked up, eyes wide and scared he’d see that blank look again. Anders looked exasperated and sad, and Mitchell shuffled forward so he could hide his face in the shorter man’s neck. Anders’s arms wrapped around him, and he sighed into Mitchell’s hair, Mitchell’s hands resting tentatively on his shoulders as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed more or not. When Anders pressed a kiss to his temple, Mitchell’s arms finally wrapped around his shoulders.

“Tell me.”

Mitchell shook his head and said against his neck, “Please don’t make me,” begging and Anders couldn’t bring himself to force him.

~

Anders would catch him with a faraway look in his eyes sometimes. He didn’t register anything in front of him and didn’t seem to hear anything apart form loud noises.

Even when he snapped out of it, there was still something off, as if part of his mind was still somewhere else. It terrified him. The look on his face was unlike anything he’d ever seen on Mitchell’s face before, so cold. He remembered before Limbo, even at his most calculating, Mitchell’s lips would be quirked in a smile, as if what he was looking at was a delightful puzzle that would turn into his favorite picture when finished.

This wasn’t him, and Anders didn’t know how to solve this since Mitchell wasn’t talking.

Still, it was easier to push to the back of his mind when Mitchell would turn that blinding smile on him. It was almost the same as before.

He’d find some other way to deal with it.

~

Anders could only sit, shell shocked while Mike looked ready to pitch a fit. He was scared. Anders was scared and it was his husband.

From the table, the headline _Box Tunnel 20 Massacre_ stared back at them.

~

He was on the run, but he supposes that’s what happens when you’re charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive. He sat on the chair across from the couch where Mitchell was curled up and just watched him.

He had finally collapsed from exhaustion—the guilt and the running and fighting Anders had taken its toll—but even sleeping his face was tight.

Anders wondered what it said about him that he still couldn’t reconcile the man in front of him with the crazed killer on the train.

~

“You shouldn’t be helping me.”

“I don’t see you refusing,” Anders shot back, the bite in his words, or maybe just the words themselves, made Mitchell flinch.

“I don’t want you to get dragged down with me.”

Anders didn’t answer, and Mitchell felt relief and despair twisted in him when he realized Anders wasn’t leaving.

~

“You infected his mind,” he said quietly, angrily. Herrick just laughed in response.

“Yes, I did.” He turned away thoughtfully, as if considering telling him something before he looked back at Anders with a grin. “You know I was hoping he’d kill you. That’s how I planned it actually; can you imagine what that would have done to him?” He added gleefully. “But Mitchell has always been contrary,” he continued wistfully. “Still, who would’ve thought that what set him off would be you being killed by a projection, of all things! Then again, I suppose all men are vengeful over their spouses, even Mitchell.”

Anders heard Mike’s sharp intake of breath behind him, and he knew the look Olaf sent was full of pity.

“I can’t say I’m upset about the outcome. Even I couldn’t have planned it this well.” He started as if remembering something, and added “Oh, but where are my manners? I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, voice full of mocking sympathy.

~

Sometimes he would start screaming, clawing at his face, and it was all Anders could do to get him calm, or as close to it, again. He had taken Mitchell’s knives and his gun, but Mitchell had always been resourceful, and as much as he tried to deny it, he had known there was only so much time before Mitchell would find a way to kill himself. One day he came to the safe house of the week to a note with only the words, “I guess I’m finally doing the right thing” scrawled in Mitchell’s messy handwriting.

The smile he shot at him over his shoulder before he threw himself off the building was the closest to his old self Anders had seen since Limbo.

~

He woke up with a shudder and resisted the urge to immediately yank his ring off and check for the inscription. He could feel Mike’s eyes on his face, searching, looking for any signs of insanity most likely.

“You need to let him go.”

Anders didn’t reply, and as soon as he was out of sight he pulled the ring off to check for Bragi inscribed in runes on the inside. He didn’t feel anything when he saw it was there.

When he heard footsteps approaching, he put the ring back on just before a hand landed on his shoulder.

“He’s just a projection, Anders,” said Olaf, quiet and sounding sober for once. Anders let out a tired sigh.

“It’s better than nothing.”

~

Sometimes, he entertained the idea that it was all a terrible dream and he could wake up at any time. It helped him get to sleep.

If Mike noticed how often he had his gun with him during the waking hours, he didn’t say anything.

~

“Why didn’t you tell us you were married?”

“Because it’s none of your business!” Anders snapped. He was sick of their opinions. He was sick of their pity. The only two who could come even close to understanding were Olaf and Ty, but Olaf was never sober and Ty was never around.

“Look, I understand--”

“How could you possibly understand?” he yelled. Mike’s eyes widened. Anders never showed his anger; he buried it and got revenge later. Anders stormed out before anyone could respond.

~

He wished he could dream naturally. He knew where to find Mitchell; he just needed to get there.

~

“Please let me go.”


End file.
